A French Day
by KaoticWhim
Summary: France loves to start his day with a little molestation...but when he decides to take on Japan, he may have made a mistake. A oneshot. Please read and review, I'm trying to get known on fanfiction here!
1. Chapter 1

**France's Day**

**AN: A quick fanfic detailing France from APH's typical day...come on, I know you wondered about it...*warning* yaoi and crack.**

Chapter One: England

France started his day as always by taking a long bath, then brushing his flaxen hair and shaving. When he was finished with this morning ritual, he stood in front of his golden mirror, a rose clamped between his teeth and winking roguishly.

"_Mon ami,_" he said, tossing his blond head at himself, "You are positively _magnifique._"

"England?"

"Present."

"China?"

"Here, aru!"

"France?"

...Silence.

America shuffled his meeting papers and adjusted his glasses, squinting through them at the council room.

"Uh, France? Are you here?"

Still silence. America sighed irritably.

"O-ookay, does anyone know then where-"

The front doors opened wide, and France sauntered in.

"_Bonjour,_ my friends," he purred, making his way to the table.

"You were late," England proclaimed sternly.

France slipped behind him and squeezed the blond's firm buttocks as he passed, eliciting a sharp, indignant shriek. England could catch the faint smell of rose cologne, and it made his nose wrinkle in disgust.

"Fashionably late," France corrected.

"Sit down, please," said America tiredly, "And leave Iggy alone."

France grinned and complied. He winked at England in a flirty manner that clearly stated his intentions, and mouthed the words, "later, _mon cheri._"

England glowered and nearly choked on his morning tea, then kicked France under the table as America droned on about world affairs.

He mouth something right back, something involving a certain derreire and various sharp objects.

France just smiled and leaned back lazily in his chair.

It was turning out to be a good day.

**AN: Honhonhonhon, good so far? England isn't the only thing France has on his mind...:D Unfortunately, he should've just stuck to molesting England, because he just made a big mistake...XD**

**England: I. Hate. You. **

**France: Honhonhon, I'm getting to you in just a minute...**

**America: Shove off, gay weirdo.**

**France: *bats eyelashes* Ameriiiicaaaaa-**_**cheri, **_**did you know that I am **_**very**_** uke?**


	2. Chapter 2: Mistake

Chapter Two: Oops

The meeting concluded quickly. It had seemed like all of eternity to France, and he made a show of getting up and stretching his limbs and groaning, all the while keeping his eye on a certain someone across the room.

"Hey, Iggy, want to go out for lunch?" asked America, pulling up next to England. "I feel like a hamburger...you?"

"Ew, no, not a hamburger," England exclaimed, making a face.

"And you always feel like a hamburger besides."

America laughed, and the two friends left the council area, busily but happily arguing.

France peeked sneakily from the corner of his eye at his (current) target. It wasn't that he didn't like England(he preferred him obviously, and his reactions were just so entertaining) but he was what he liked to call a gourmet romantic. He liked to "appreciate" and "sample" every piece of "fine cuisine" he came across.

Gradually, nations began filing out of the room, chatting amongst themselves.

Soon, only France was left.

Along with his "_bonbon petit._"

His little candy, Japan.

All the meeting he had been stealing glances at the young serious country. He had been observing the gentle curve of his back, his fine black hair, the delicate jaw...not to mention that delectable round-

Well, they didn't throw their boxers at his face and call him a "bloody pervert" for nothing. His mind was something never to be seen by mortal eyes.

Japan was busying himself with packing all of the little pens and papers he had brought along into his handbag. Each and every page was filled with notes recording everything America had said or done during the meet, the writing small and neat.

Slowly, so as to not startle his prey, France approached the small Japanese carefully.

"Hello, Kiku," he said, purposefully using the country's true name. To use a true name was a sign of affection, and he wanted to communicate what he wanted early.

"_Konichiwa, Francouis-san,_" Japan murmered, stacking some papers. He didn't bother turning to look at him.

"Kiku-"

"Please do not call me by my first name, France-san."

"Japan."

France said the two syllables of the country in a breathy way, as if he was trying to inhale it. The way he said it made Japan wince, but he was too dignified to show it. France was too busy occupied with repeating the name over and over to notice.

"What do you want from me?"

France knew that was his cue. He briskly went over to the huge doors and turned the key in the lock, then spun round back to Japan.

Japan eyed him suspiciously as France advanced, the classic perv expression that seemed to always hover just out of reach constantly was now spreading on his face.

"_Honhonhonhon..._"

"F-France-san? Why did you lock that door?"

France was now so close Japan could smell the heady cologne. He kept backing up, then realized with horror as his back thunked on America's wooden desk he was trapped.

France reached down and grasped the diminutive Asian's fragile jaw in his hand, leaning low so his face was level.

Japan's normally sharp tongue had gone silent, and his brown eyes were wide with shock. France chuckled in his creepy way. For once, Japan had no idea how to react, and France liked it. It was a culinary adventure for the gourmet romantic.

"D-don't you touch me! How dare you!" Japan shouted. France found it amusing his voice could rise to such a level.

He lifted Japan in his arms, kicking and wiggling, and laid him down on the desk, leering over him and enjoying his prize.

Japan bit his hand and scratched his cheek, furiously struggling. He squirmed every time France laid so much as a finger on him. It was quite obvious he was not used to physical contact whatsoever. This was better than bugging England any day.

Which kind of made France wonder how he would react if he...

France bent his blond head to Japan's and captured his soft lips in a deep, assertive kiss.

As expected, Japan stopped struggling immediately and went completely rigid with astonishment. He bucked helplessly under him and kicked his feet, uttering angry muffled cries.

France pulled away, breathless, and wiped off his mouth. He tenderly wiped Japan's lower lip with his sleeve, where there was a small drop of saliva. Japan made a faint gagging noise as though he wanted to throw up the kiss.

"Ah, Kiku-_cheri,_" he said with a sigh, "You are so beautiful..."

Japan tried once more to kick him but failed, and settled for spitting in an undignified manner into France's face.

France completely ignored it(having recieved worse from England on a daily basis) and instead reached down and slid his hands up Japan's uniform. He began tracing little circles on his chest and stroking his pale throat with his finger.

"Ah, _amourex_, do you want to try something else now?"

Japan gasped and arched his neck with a cry.

"All...of my answers are no!"

"_Honhonhonhon..._"

France tugged impatiently at the hem of Japan's pants, revealing smooth slender hips-

"_FRANCE!_"

The Frenchman didn't even have time to look up before a unusually powerful fist smashed into his face and sent him sprawling.

"U-urgh..._Mon Dieu,_ my head! My poor head!"

A pair of black gloved hands hauled him up roughly.

"Serves you right!"

France shook his head dazily to clear it. What met his eyes was-

"A-America? What are you-"

The normally hamburger-munching cheery Yankee was now helping up a disheveled Japan and glaring in France's direction with slits of blue fire through his glasses.

He marched right up to him and hit France again upside the head.

He was a young nation still, but he was famous for his strength. France believed every word of what he had heard about it now.

"What were you thinking, laying a hand on Kiku?"

France tried to think fast, before he got hit again.

"N-nothing, America! Just-"

"Just locking the door so I was forced to sneak through the window and saw you atop Kiku and...and...AND..."

America shuddered and took off his brown jacket, slinging it around Japan's thin shoulders and patting him down in a worried manner.

France could've bit his tongue off when he finished the sentence impulsively.

"You mean kissing him, hrm? Touching him?"

He caught sight of America's expression and quickly stated, "I wasn't going to hurt him, honest! I was just fooling around! Testing the waters! Conquering! Wait, I didn't mean that last part! AAAGH AMERICA WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH THAT SUB SANDWICH? DON'T HIT ME WITH IT! AAAGH! IT HUUUURTS...!"

He wailed out his last words, flapping his arms as he ran around in circles as he was being chased by America and his deadly sub sandwich.

"THIS WILL TEACH YOU NOT TO LAY YOUR FILTHY HANDS ON KIKU!"

Suddenly France stopped right there, and America nearly ran right through him. A breakthrough had gotten into his mind.

"...Kiku? You are calling him by his first name?"

America went over and draped an arm over Japan's shoulders affectionately.

"Of course! I love him...didn't you know?"

"No."

France felt cross and left out. Though considering how Japan was, regardless of who loved him or not he probably would have continued his little "dining excursion."

"So, eh..." France shuffled awkwardly, looking down at his feet, "Is it okay now? I'm sorry and I didn't know he was yours..."

Complete lies. France would have to just try again some other time...a time when America was away..._honhonhon..._

"So, friends?"

America nodded slowly, seemingly fast returning to his bubbly self.

"Yep, friends," he said, coming up to to hug France.

That is an unusual thing for America, thought France, reaching out his arms to accept it.

I mean, he never hugs me-

_Snap._

"H-hey!"

America stepped back and bowed to Japan, a now handcuffed France trying his hardest to escape from the bolted desk.

"He's all yours, Kiku," said America, winking and stepping out of the way.

Japan blinked, then walked up to France.

"Waaa Japan-_cheri_! Get me out!"

France groaned and doubled over sobbing as Japan unleashed a devastating low kick to his vital regions. He'd never touch Japan again, even if he showed up wiggling his cute horrible butt in a French maid dress.

"Thank you, Alfred-san. This is just what I need."

France wailed.

**AN: Now wasn't that nice?**

**France: Whaaat? No raep? **

**England: I approve 100% on the ending. ^_^**

**France: That's...not how its supposed to end! Thats not even how it ended in real life either!**

**Japan: *sigh* Shut up, France. Do you want me to give you another lesson...?**

**England: YUS LAWLZ**

**France: No siiiiiiir! Please nooooo! D':**

**America: That's my uke! :D**

**England: What's...an uke? Hmm? **

**France: *activate perv mode* Yoooooouuuu.**


End file.
